


shine a light on my life (warm me up again)

by falsealarm



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-04 01:49:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14582268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsealarm/pseuds/falsealarm
Summary: Sam has another meeting in an hour and she should be reading up for it but she forgot how much fun it was to flirt with Lena.[aka Sam is having a stressful time at L Corp and Lena has a helpful suggestion. Early season 3.]





	shine a light on my life (warm me up again)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sten06](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sten06/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY STEN *croissant emojis* I hope you like this fic pal and thank you for having a birthday so I finally had an excuse to write this fic. Maybe eventually I'll write proper Metropolis fic for these two but I think this is a nice placeholder for now. Un-beta'd bc pfft who's got time for that?
> 
> Title from Keane's "Hamburg Song".

Two weeks at the head of L Corp and Sam is sure the only thing keeping her upright is bundles of knotted muscle and a constant supply of coffee. She’d woken up with an ache between her shoulder blades but it’s been persistently spreading up the column of her spine all morning and has just settled at the base of her skull. It surges every time Sam’s phone buzzes: once when she steps into the cool dark of the restaurant lobby and again as the hostess directs her to a booth at the back.

Lena stands to greet her, arms open for a hug that Sam walks directly into because she is beyond grateful to see a friendly face after the morning she’s had.

“Happy to see me?” Lena asks against Sam’s shoulder. Her hug is just firm enough that Sam can feel some of the stress of her day start to slip away.

She sighs as Lena pulls back, “always.”

Sliding in opposite Lena, Sam pushes towards the center of the curved booth, running her hands along the green velvet of the back as she goes. Around them the restaurant is bustling and back at the front door Sam spots a queue of waiting lunch patrons that she’d completely missed upon entry. The booth they’re sitting in could easily fit six people which means Lena pulled some strings to get them a little privacy. Sam is thankful for the modicum of quiet the booth allows, even if a small rush of guilt sloshes into her stomach.

“So, how was your morning?”

Her body reacts before Sam can tell it not to: a groan slipping her lips as her head tilts back against the soft cushion of the booth’s high back. “Is it always like this?”

 _It_ being a morning of wall to wall meetings but this isn’t the first day Sam’s had like this. In fact, she feels like most of her work at L Corp consists of meetings and the small spaces _between_ meetings where she squeezes in prep for _more_ meetings.

“Don’t tell me you’re already getting burned out, Ms. Arias.”

“No, no,” Sam lifts her head, shakes it, “it’s just—you do get a break eventually, right?”

“Sleep is a break.” Lena arches an eyebrow, tilts her head like she’s sorry her answer is true.

Sam sighs again, “please tell me you’re kidding.”

Lena chuckles, breathy and quiet, and it settles warm in Sam’s chest despite the implication Lena _wasn’t_ kidding. Before Lena can actually reply their waiter arrives, a bottle of wine in hand that Lena had apparently ordered ahead of time. As he pours—Sam rebuffs a taste, Lena’s choice in wine has always been trustworthy—Sam takes a cursory peek at the menu. Lena orders a salad, Sam orders the salmon and tries not to reach for her wine glass too quickly as the waiter leaves.

The wine is a red, possibly not the best choice to go with salmon, but as it coats the inside of Sam’s mouth and slips down her throat the sweet, sharp bite of alcohol tingles up Sam’s spine.

“It will get better,” Lena says after a quiet moment.

“Really?” Sam’s query is earnest, possibly too much so because Lena’s answer is a flat:

“No.” Then she’s setting her wine glass on the table and gently sliding an index finger up the stem, “I was just trying to make you feel better.”

Sam answers the soft smile Lena’s put on for her with one of her own before taking a proper drink from her glass. “I just feel so keyed up all the time.” Sam reaches up to rub gently at the base of her skull, closes her eyes. “How did you deal with that?”

“Wine,” Lena answers coolly and Sam knows her smile just got wider.

“If that were true you’d be a raging alcoholic.”

“A very high functioning alcoholic.”

The tone of Lena’s voice sounds less playful than Sam would like so she opens her eyes, “Lena.”

But Lena’s still smiling, even reaches out to put a hand on Sam’s arm and squeeze gently, “Joking, Samantha. Wine certainly helps but it’s not a cure all.”

“So, what?” Sam drops her hand from her neck then experimentally tilts it slowly to the left until it burns a little before righting herself. “Yoga? Boxing?”

Lena takes a long pause and a slow sip of her wine, quirks an eyebrow. “No, I prefer something a little more one on one.”

And the way that she says it, the way that she looks Sam up and down pings something familiar low in Sam’s belly because she’s seen that look before. It’s been years but she knows exactly what it means.

“I’ve got absolutely no time for that.”

“You should make time for things that are important to you.”

“That,” Sam breathes out, “is not important.”

Lena looks positively offended as she leans forward and narrows her eyes. “Stress relief is the only way you’re going to survive, Sam.”

Sam lets slip a small chuckle, cocks an eyebrow. “Oh, is that what you call it?”

“That’s what it is,” Lena answers, matter-of-factly. “Orgasms do wonders for a troubled mind.”

“ _Lena_.” Sam looks out into the space ahead of them, to the closest table where a group of men in thousand-dollar suits are halfway through their lunch. They seem not to have heard Lena but Sam still feels the cold roil of scandal sloshing around with the wine in her stomach.

“How long’s it been?”

Sam can feel her cheeks heating up. It’s been years since she and Lena have talked this candidly about sex. Coupled with that fact that they’re in _public_ , Sam feels an immediate need to change the subject. She wishes their waiter would show up and change it for her but instead there’s just Lena. Lena who’s looking over at Sam with—it’s not concern in her eyes, but genuine curiosity and Sam has never been one to deny Lena, so she finds herself caving in a whisper: “Two years.”

Lena doesn’t try to cover any of the shock in her expression. “Really?”

“Dating as a single mom is hard, Lena, you remember what it was like in Metropolis.”

Sam’s dating life in Metropolis had essentially been a long string of horrible, no good dates. One after the other, painful and unpleasant or otherwise desperately boring but that’s not what comes to mind when Sam thinks of Metropolis. Instead, she gets a flash of Lena: half naked in her bed with the morning sun shining in behind her.

There’s a softness in Lena’s eyes when Sam finds them again, like maybe she was thinking something similar. Her answer is a simple, “I do.”

Their food comes seconds after, the smell of Sam’s lunch pulling her free from sun-drenched mornings and Lena’s soft smile. They eat in companionable silence but there’s something heavy in the space between them, familiar but not something Sam wants to name or think about too much. She eats fast, her body craving her calorie-rich lunch like it knows there’s a high change Sam will be skipping dinner later—but somehow Lena eats faster.

Sam feels Lena watching her, tries to ignore it but then Lena speaks: “I could help.”

“With what?”

“Stress relief.”

The only reason Sam doesn’t choke on her food is that her fork is only halfway to her mouth. She sits in silence for a moment, trying to process a reply as her mind flits back to rumpled bed sheets and the dark curtain of Lena’s hair against the pale skin of her back. “That doesn’t seem like a wise idea.”

“Why not?”

Sam sets her fork down, finally looking over to Lena. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I’m not,” Lena takes a sip of her wine, lets her mouth hover over the rim of her glass as she continues, “I think I could be helpful.”

The way she says it, _helpful_ , draws Sam’s attention directly to Lena’s mouth. Sam feels her hips twitch as a specific memory of that mouth forces its way to the front of her mind. But it isn’t—this is the first time they’ve acknowledged their past, albeit vaguely, since Lena moved to National City and to bring it up so casually like this, Sam can’t tell if Lena is serious or not. The way Lena is looking at her feels like a challenge though and despite the rumbling of unease in her stomach, Sam feels the urge to bite back.

“What makes you think you’re my best option?” If Lena wants to play this game, Sam isn’t going to back down. “What sets you apart from some guy I could pick up in a bar later tonight?”

Again, Lena looks offended, her jaw even dropping slightly before she says, “Really, Sam?”

“You don’t think you can make your case?”

The offense drops from Lena’s face, replaced by something like curiosity. “You want me to pitch you the idea?”

Sam nods her head, “Only if you think you can sell it.”

The curve of Lena’s smile is positively sinful and Sam thinks there’s a chance she might regret this idea. “You know I love a challenge.”

 

\---

 

Sam has another meeting in an hour and she should be reading up for it but she forgot how much fun it was to flirt with Lena. Before their food had arrived, Lena had been gradually moving closer to Sam and now the space between them is mere inches. Lena’s hand is splayed on the booth seat between them and Sam can feel Lena’s fingertips gently stroking against the outside of her thigh.

“Well, first of all,” Lena starts, voice low enough to rasp gently, “some _boy_ you pick up in a bar won’t be able to make you come like I can.”

This is the Lena that Sam remembers best from Metropolis. Bravado and confidence, so sure that she’s the best there is to offer. A warmth stirs low in Sam’s belly again, a warning perhaps, but Sam still feels like fighting back a little: “What if I get lucky?”

“Sure,” Lena tilts her head to the side, “there’s a _miniscule_ chance you will, but why risk it? Why not go with a safe bet?”

Sam hums, bites her bottom lip briefly before releasing it. “A friend once told me the safe choice isn’t always the right choice.”

Lena knows _she_ is the friend, looks amused but also a little mad that Sam is throwing her own words back at her. “Your friend is smart but when it comes to orgasms, familiarity and skill should always be at the top of your list.”

“Skill?” Sam questions, trying to keep her voice even but her eyes flick down to Lena’s mouth of their own accord and watch as a smirk pulls at the corners of her lips.

“I’m a woman of many talents, Sam. I’m sure you remember that.” Lena’s hand slides to the top of Sam’s thigh, touch light but warm through the fabric of her trousers. The action takes Sam by surprise and her body straightens in response, a betrayal that turns Lena’s smirk into a smile. “With a situation this dire, you’ll need the best you can get.”

It takes a moment for Sam to gather herself. Butting heads with Lena has always felt natural, their verbal sparring a fun exercise to keep their friendship lively. But whatever this has turned into has heat pressing in between Sam’s legs, pointed and wanting. This isn’t just friendly flirting. This is flirting with a promise, flirting with intent that Sam had long thought Lena no longer had within her.

Apparently, she was wrong.

Sam hears herself speaking, urging Lena on: “Oh, it’s dire, huh?”

“Two years is an awfully long time, Sam.” Lena shifts and Sam feels the press of Lena’s breast against her arm, feels Lena brush hair away from her ear. Lena’s voice is hot as she whispers, “My apartment is only 3 blocks away.”

Sam closes her eyes, breathes out and lowers her head. She doesn’t have time for this, her afternoon is booked solid and she’s barely prepared for her next meeting. The only reason she’d even managed to get out of the office was because Jess had hard-scheduled this lunch in at Lena’s request.

But, above it all, they _shouldn’t be doing this_. Lena’s friendship means so much to Sam and they’ve finally gotten to a place where what they did, what they _had_ , in Metropolis seems like a lifetime ago. But Lena is too close, too warm and the hand on Sam’s thigh edges forward to stroke at the inner seam of her trousers and _fuck_ , she was never going to turn Lena down.

“You’re paying for lunch.”

Lena’s answer is a purr, “We’ll expense it.”

 

\---

 

The walk to Lena’s apartment is a minefield. Sam tries her best not to stay too near Lena on the sidewalk, tries not to think about what this will mean tomorrow, next week, how this will change their friendship. The silence between them in the elevator up to Lena’s penthouse is suffocating. Lena is purposefully standing in her space now, Sam can feel the heat of her and it’s enough to make Sam’s skin thrum with anticipation despite the nerves in her stomach.

Sam gets the urge to make niceties once they’re inside because she hasn’t actually been to Lena’s apartment since she moved back. But she doesn’t care about the art on Lena’s walls or the flowers on her counter all she can think about is kissing Lena—so she does.

Unfortunately, it feels a little like a homecoming. Familiar but different; things have changed but Lena still feels the same, still hums against Sam’s mouth when she’s pleased with the work Sam is doing. But Sam doesn’t want these feelings. If they’re going to do this it needs to be purely about stress relief. What they’re doing doesn’t have any room for what they left behind in Metropolis or whatever weird feelings Lena’s move to National City stirred up for Sam. So, Sam pushes a little, licks into Lena’s mouth, bites at her bottom lip and starts guiding her towards the couch.

“In a rush, are we?” Lena’s smiling against Sam’s mouth as they move, her hands already untucking the hem of Sam’s shirt from her trousers.

“I have a meeting in 35 minutes.” Beneath her hands Lena is all soft curves even with the taught fabric of her dress and as she kicks off her heels Sam feels her plummet a couple inches, has to bend down to keep kissing her.

“That’s plenty of time.” She’s being playful which is making this whole thing feel friendlier than Sam would like it to be, familiar in a way Sam isn’t ready for. Lena shouldn’t be chuckling against her mouth, shouldn’t be kissing her like they’ve all the time in the world.

“ _Lena_.” There’s a bit of urgency in Sam’s voice. It’s not a whine, it’s more of a command but it doesn’t strike Lena like Sam wants it to. Lena just chuckles again then steps to the side, shifting them just before they hit the couch so that Lena can be on top.

Sam tries to recline casually against the edge of the couch, thinks maybe it’ll help prove that she’s not as desperate for this as she knows Lena thinks she is. But then Lena’s sucking on her tongue and Sam feels it between her legs, a hot spike of want that makes her moan aloud, makes her hips lift to connect with Lena’s.

Lena’s dress isn’t at all appropriate for making out on a couch but somehow, she manages to settle in a way that she can snake a hand between them. It slides over the fabric of Sam’s blouse, skating against her ribs, the edge of her bra. Her thumb only skirts over the peak of Sam’s nipple before retreating, doubling back to deftly undo the button and zipper of Sam’s trousers before sliding lower.

She isn’t wasting any time: strokes at Sam underneath her underwear and swallows Sam’s whimpering with a kiss. She strokes one long line with two fingers, dragging the wetness she finds at Sam’s entrance up to coat her clit. Lena’s already smiling against Sam’s mouth, the kind of grin Sam knows means she’s pleased at how worked up, how _wet_ , Sam is. She works at Sam in tight circles, at a pace that has Sam arching her hips and begging for more, gasping into the warm, early afternoon air around them.

Then, a whisper in Sam’s ear: “You feel so good.”

Sam’s answer is a moan that sounds guttural, feels harsh in her throat as Lena begins to kiss the length of Sam’s jaw. The pressure between her legs is starting to focus, shifting with each stroke of Lena’s fingers to centralize behind her clit. Lena mouths at her neck, kissing wet and eager as she presses tighter against Sam’s side.

Eyes closed, Sam focuses on her breathing, on Lena’s fingers and mouth and then—a tweeting noise. A noise that gets louder as Sam hones in on it and then it couples with a loud vibrating against the marble of Lena’s kitchen island. Sam curses loudly, breathes out as Lena says to ignore it and starts to speed up her movements—maybe in an effort to get Sam to stay put but Sam is already out of it, her mind immediately back at the office.

Lena sees it first, moves so Sam can get up and answer the call before Sam even thinks to ask her to.

It’s Jess. Her next meeting is early and he won’t stop trying to go into her office. She says that Lena will understand. That Mr. Ernst was always one of their toughest clients.

“Mr. Ernst,” Sam says aloud and the moment she does Lena rolls her eyes, sighs.

“You’ve my apologies,” Lena says simply.

Then Sam hangs up, shoves her phone into her bag then her shirt into her pants. She read over her notes for their meeting before she left for lunch but it was only once and it was just a skim. Mr. Ernst is a worried shareholder, important enough to warrant an in-person meeting that will likely be filled with Sam assuring him that business will go on as usual. Sam buttons and zips her pants, runs a hand through her hair and turns to find Lena still standing aside the couch. “Thanks for lunch.”

“Anytime,” Lena answers, cheeks red and hands clasped in front of her.

Then Sam’s out the door.

 

\---

 

The entire cab ride back to the office Sam’s on her phone, refreshing herself on the peculiarities and specifics of Mr. Ernst. He’s hovering over Jess’s shoulder when she gets to the office and his smile is forced, his handshake too strong as Sam ushers him into the office. Most of the meeting is as Sam expected: assurances and ego stroking and Sam letting him in on early numbers to keep him satisfied. His exit from her office feels like a breath of fresh air but when Sam returns to her desk she finds a text from Lena. She swipes it away before she can read it but mere glimpse of Lena’s name is reminder enough that only an hour ago Lena had her hand down Sam's pants.

The rest of Sam's afternoon is a bit of a horny blur.

Mr. Ernst is her last meeting but after that she's got a never-ending stream of R&D research to read up on and the first run of the quarterly budget to review. And now, to make matters worse, beneath it all there’s a heat thrumming between Sam’s legs. She twists in her seat, presses her legs together in an effort to relieve the feeling but each adjustment just makes Sam more aware of how wet she still is.

She tries to submerge herself in technical reports. There are other people more knowledgeable about these things to sign off on them properly but Sam still feels the need to read them, wants to stay informed. She gets halfway through a report on a new mechanical lubricant before she has to get herself a glass of water. Then, only a third of the way through an update on rigidity testing of a new silicon polymer before she has to go stand out on the balcony to grab a little fresh air.

The heat between her legs is just as persistent as the ache at the base of her skull. It’s infuriating because Sam hasn’t felt like this in years, because it was _Lena_ who did this to her and Sam let her do it, practically asked for it. She can’t believe she was swayed so easily—but, then again, Lena has always been a weak spot for Sam.

After her balcony cool down, Sam switches to the quarterly budget and it seems safer. Line after line of numbers with annotated references to what department is getting how much and for what. But it ends up almost being worse. Instead of her imagination being fed scenarios by what she’s reading, Sam’s mind starts reaching for _memories_. It jumps from one naked moment to the next, each more lascivious than the last before settling on a very _vivid_ memory of Lena smiling up at Sam from between her legs, mouth wet and eyes dark.

Then Sam’s phone pings with a text—from Lena.

She swipes at it quickly, pulling up their string of messages to read the text from earlier:

_Hopefully our next lunch won’t be cut short._

And then the follow up:

_My evening is free._

Sam whispers a quiet, “thank God.” She sinks back in her chair, breathes out hot and closes her eyes, gets a flash of Lena’s wet mouth and squeezes her legs together.

Ruby and the nanny get a text that she’ll be working late and the guilt that would usually come with the action is swallowed by the heat between Sam’s legs, the simmer it had settled into growing hotter by the second.

Sam is out of the office as soon as she finishes the last of her work for the day. She'd wanted to get a jump on tomorrow but there's no way she would be good for anything with the way her mind keeps flicking back to Lena. It's dangerous, what they've started, and Sam knows that but she hasn't been this turned on in years and Lena started this so she's going to finish it.

 

\---

 

The security desk recognizes Sam from earlier but has her sign in again anyway then she's up the elevator and at Lena's door.

"I didn't expect you'd last the whole day." Lena’s smile is sharp around the edges, already playful.

"You're the worst." Then Sam's pushing in through the door and grabbing at Lena's waist, pulling her in for a kiss and shutting the door blindly behind them. They take the same path they did earlier, faster this time and the way Lena's already licking into Sam's mouth means she's been thinking about this all day too.

Lena's quick to pin Sam to the couch again and the ease at which she settles against Sam makes her realize Lena's changed since the last time Sam saw her. She's in leggings and a baggy sweater, hair still wet from a shower and she's warm, soft in Sam's hands as Sam pulls her closer, as Sam’s hands sneak under the hem of her sweater. Lena straddles Sam's thigh, slowly unbuttoning her shirt with one hand as she kisses at Sam's neck.

"So how was work?"

"You know exactly how it was."

"Oh, I do?" Lena's hand skims the plane of Sam's stomach, the underwire of her bra, before tiptoeing her fingers up Sam's sternum.

Sam’s voice pitches as Lena sucks at her pulse point, " _Lena_."

It’s been mere minutes and already Sam is hot enough that she's squirming underneath Lena. After all these years, Lena still makes her feel like a horny teenager and Sam hates it, even as Lena grinds down a little against her thigh.

"What?"

"Don't make me ask."

"Ask for _what_?"

"This was your idea."

"Oh, this?" Then Lena's sucking on Sam's pulse point again and sliding a hand under Sam's bra to tweak her nipple.

Sam cries out into the open air, " _Fuck_."

"Soon," Lena whispers then she's skating her hand down Sam's body to undo her pants again. 

A single finger runs against Sam over the fabric of her underwear, just hard enough that Sam's hips tilt upward for more friction. Lena smiles against Sam’s neck but she doesn't tease very long, slides her hand under Sam's underwear and quickly down to gather wetness. She lingers for a moment, dipping gently into Sam to pull an airy gasp from her before slipping up to continue the circles that were interrupted earlier.

There’s a fervency to Lena’s touch that feels familiar. Sam’s mind pulls the memory for her: the couch in Lena’s Metropolis apartment, Lena’s hands in Sam’s hair and her tongue sliding against Sam’s bottom lip. Sam remembers two bottles of wine and a text to the nanny, remembers Lena’s hand on her thigh and a loaded question. She remembers her answer being whispered into Lena’s mouth, remembers Lena smiling against her lips and saying, “ _finally_.”

From the start, their friendship had been a tentative balance of focused curiosity and sporadic intimacy. After acquiring her company, Lena had taken an immediate shine to Sam. First in her business acumen then again in her company, company she didn't at all mind sharing with a young Ruby. But, it was Lena that got Sam her first nanny. Lena who helped get Sam out of the house on nights when they could both use some time away from work, away from home. Lena was on again off again with Jack most of the time Sam had known her in Metropolis but that didn't stop her from flirting with Sam like she was made for it.

And Sam—unaccustomed to such attention and already weak to Lena’s mere presence—couldn’t resist her even if she’d wanted to, so they eventually fell into bed. Their relationship was the kind Sam never thought she'd be able to have once she'd had Ruby. Casual wasn’t the word for it. There was a dedication, a strong undercurrent of love, maybe even devotion but it never felt heavy, never felt serious with Jack floating in the background. It had been fun and it made Sam feel sexy and wanted and free and she doesn't think she's ever loved someone like she loved Lena back when they weren't made to last.

Sam feels herself tipping into her orgasm just as Lena whispers, "I know you're close." Like Lena somehow summons the orgasm from within her Sam clutches at Lena's hips, fingers digging into soft skin as she pants out hot and heavy against Lena's cheek, her orgasm wracking through her. Lena strokes her through the aftershocks, slow and easy, kisses along Sam’s jaw before sucking gently on her earlobe.

Sam’s heartbeat is hammering in her ears and she feels better but she doesn't feel finished. She imagines Lena's offer might have been for a continuous stretch of time, regular stress relief beneficial to the both of them but now that Sam remembers what it's like to be with Lena she knows tonight is the only time it can happen. There’s too much between them for this to just be a healthy release like Lena had suggested it would be. This is the only time I can happen, just this once, so Sam wants to make it count.

"We need a bed."

Lena looks positively pleased, like perhaps she hadn't actually imagined Sam would continue past the first orgasm but now that Sam is intent on reliving their glory days they aren’t going to do that on a couch.

Lena leads her to the bedroom and Sam finds herself stepping out of her pants, tugging off her socks before reaching for Lena's sweater. It’s up and over her head before they've even made it halfway to the bed. Lena's not wearing anything underneath it and her tits are just as glorious as Sam remembers. Her hands find purchase against them as she leans in to capture Lena's lips in a searing kiss, guiding her back towards the bed. Lena slides her hands under Sam's open shirt, holds onto her hips and tugs Sam down with her as she falls to the bed.

Sam works her way down Lena's jaw, kisses down her neck then lower until she can mouth at Lena’s breasts and above her Lena moans. She threads a hand in Sam's hair as Sam refamiliarizes herself with the puckered skin of Lena’s areolas, the hard peak of her nipples and the soft, fullness of her breasts. It’s entirely possible they’ve gotten bigger since Sam saw them last. She doesn’t quite remember them filling her hands as much as they do now and wants to thank whatever deity granted her this gift as she kisses and sucks at the top of Lena’s breast hard enough to leave a mark.

Eventually, her mouth wanders down. The journey is slow but sure as Sam kisses the ladder of Lena’s ribs then the soft swell of her belly. She stops at the waistband of Lena’s leggings, feels Lena scratch at her skull and urge her attention up.

“ _Sam_.” It doesn’t sound like a question but Sam still feels it as one. It’s like Lena knows if Sam does this there really is no going back.

Hands are one thing, mouths are another but Sam doesn't care: "I want to."

Lena's leggings and underwear are pulled down then chucked aside and _fuck_ Lena tastes just as good as Sam remembers.

Sam thinks she could spend an eternity with her face between Lena’s legs. Like the rest of her it’s familiar but Sam takes long moments trying to recall what Lena likes. She teases at Lena’s entrance with the tip of her tongue, licks up to circle at Lena’s clit before sucking gently. Lena’s hips rise, urging more contact and Sam laughs at her urgency, at the way Lena stutters out her name in reprimand as Sam pauses.

“In a rush, are we?” Sam parrots and Lena looks down at her, recognizes her own words being thrown back at her _again_.

“You’re such a smart ass,” Lena tuts, a half-hearted scowl spreading onto her features. Quickly, Sam sets her mouth to Lena’s clit again before it can settle, watches narrowed eyes flutter and roll back as she licks a tentative circle around the outside of Lena’s clit.

There’s wetness against her chin and Sam welcomes the slippery feel of it as she sucks at Lena’s clit, still slowly working at the bud with tender movements. Above her Lena’s breathing is starting to quicken and her hips shift before she grunts out the word “faster” then shortly after “fingers”.

This Sam remembers best: how much Lena likes to be fucked while she’s eaten out.

Sliding inside Lena is a cinch, she’s wet enough that Sam can get two fingers in easily. The arc of her fingers lets Sam drag against the ridges of Lena’s G-spot and she feels Lena’s entire body react, arching as Sam licks at her clit a little faster. Lena doesn’t last long after that, comes with Sam's name on her lips and a hand in Sam's hair. Sam strokes into her, strokes out the last of her orgasm as she licks at Lena’s clit with the flat of her tongue and revels in the feel of muscle flexing against her fingers.

Above her Lena is beautiful. She is spent and flushed, sweat on her brow and eyes dark, lips parted as she pants out and watches Sam watch her. Seeing her like this brings a new flood of memories rushing in, this batch much softer than the last.

Sam has missed her terribly.

Their renewed friendship is only a fraction of what it once was. Sam doesn’t dislike what they’ve become but it’s different, it’s missing something. She still trusts Lena to have her back. Trusts Lena with her hopes, her insecurities but everything about their friendship feels stunted—one-sided. It’s Lena that’s missing. Lena that’s been keeping her distance, keeping Sam and Ruby at arm’s length even after handing L Corp over to her; a move Sam had secretly hoped would bring them back together. A together with Lena back at Friday night dinners, with Lena saving her from an evening in the office with drinks in a garishly modern martini bar. A together with Lena remembering that once Sam was the only person she could tell her secrets to.

She had hoped for something simpler but instead she had gotten this: Lena’s thigh warm against her cheek and the salty-sweet taste of her on Sam’s tongue.

Sam pushes back her hopes, her memories and kisses her way up Lena's body. Belly to breast to neck and once they’re kissing properly Lena licks into Sam’s mouth, tastes herself on Sam’s tongue. A noise of satisfaction rumbles at the back of her throat and tingles between Sam’s legs as Lena grabs at her waist and shifts them upright. She pushes Sam’s shirt off her shoulders, starts to paw at the clasp of her bra as Sam moves to straddle her lap. Lena's mouth is quick to Sam’s neck as her shirt and bra are chucked behind them on the floor and Sam fists a hand in Lena's damp hair, uses the other to balance herself against Lena's shoulder as her mouth dips to capture the peak of Sam’s nipple.

Lena holds onto Sam with one hand at her waist and another higher on her back, keeping Sam's chest against her mouth. Sam is so focused on the feel of Lena’s mouth against her skin that she barely registers Lena shifting their positions. With a few stealthy maneuvers, Sam finds herself lying on her back then Lena’s slinking down between her legs, dragging her mouth down the smooth plane of Sam’s stomach as she goes. Sam feels a burning heat low in her belly, flaring and pulsing as Lena kisses up her thigh and looks up to her with wild, dark eyes. As Lena pulls down Sam’s underwear, Sam finds herself up on her elbows, watching intently as Lena presses closer to taste her.

Lena licks into Sam like she's been waiting for it all day, like she has a mind to make this moment last. Her tongue moves slow, the flat of it lapping at the velvet wetness of Sam’s cunt and Sam feels as if she is burning, that Lena is consuming her.

The extent of Lena’s skill has apparently been extended since Sam was with her last. Much like Sam had done before her, Lena is taking her time refamiliarizing herself with geography long forgotten. Though, it doesn’t seem like she’s forgotten much with the way her mouth moves, licking and sucking at slick skin and the sensitive bud of Sam’s clit. She works at Sam as if she is trying to prove herself, to make Sam believe that this isn’t a mistake, that this won’t be something Sam will regret. Sam’s body feels like it’s on fire so Sam wants to believe her but she doesn’t know if she can.

The time from start to finish feels like hours, Sam's mind ticking through a rolodex of memories: Lena in her bed, smiling bright at her over coffee, scowling at brutish men in bars, laughing loud and open, holding Sam's hand and wiping at her tears. When Sam comes it is white hot and overwhelming and she is crying because she has missed Lena but she has never stopped loving her.

" _Sam_." Lena crawls up Sam's body, cups her cheek, brushing at fresh tears with her thumb. "Sam, what's wrong?"

"We shouldn't have done this." The difficulty won’t be in forgetting this happened—the difficulty will be in knowing what it could have been. This was a mistake, Sam can see that now and she needs to leave, needs to get far away from Lena before she reveals any more of herself.

" _Sam_."

"I need to go." Sam makes to move but then Lena is kissing her, soft and sure and Sam's fight stills, falls back into the mattress as Lena whispers:

"I've missed you."

Lena’s eyes shine in the dim light. Her face is open, a longing in the knit of her brow, the quiver of her bottom lip. Sam recognizes the warmth there, the sincerity and her heart seizes.

"I didn't know how to say it,” Lena pauses, rubbing her thumb against Sam’s cheek again. “I didn't—I didn't think you would agree to this. I thought you would laugh me away but you're here."

In her endorphin-altered state Sam almost feels like this is a dream. But there’s nothing blurred about Lena’s face or the lights above her. Beneath her hand Sam feels the luxury of Lena’s Egyptian cotton sheets and past the hammering of her heart Sam can hear the noises of the city, because this isn’t a dream. Lena missing her is real and—

"I've missed you too." Sam's voice feels small but the weight of her reply is heavy enough that now Lena has tears in her own eyes and Sam smiles as her nerves settle and her heart starts to warm. "We're a pair, aren't we? Crying after sex like a couple of softies."

"You cried first," Lena tuts with a cheeky smile.

"Semantics," Sam replies and Lena laughs. Sam feels it rumble against her chest and then she’s laughing too, laughing and leaning up to kiss Lena sure and steady because tomorrow won’t be as worrisome as Sam thought it would be. In fact, tomorrow might be the start of something new.


End file.
